


reach out (hiding in the dark)

by sandpapersnowman



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: "What, going to walk me home?" Jon snorts, though he does lean a little more into Martin's side as they step out of the bar.





	reach out (hiding in the dark)

**Author's Note:**

> jon/martin crashed into my house at 80 mph and threatened my life
> 
> title from studio killers' [True Colours](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/studiokillers/truecolours.html)

Jon doesn't know why they need 'work outings' like this. They look out of place, a bunch of dusty, sunlight-deficient nerds clustered together in the corner of a pub, talking amongst themselves and mostly ignoring the stares from other patrons. He almost wants to yell that they're from the Magnus Archives, give an answer for their unasked _what's wrong with them_ s and shed some of the eyes off them.

He doesn't realize he's over-indulged in drinks a bit until he decides he's fulfilled his minimum quota for social activity and stands, wobbling on his feet at the end of their table. 

"You alright, Jon?" Elias asks, at the same moment Martin stands too. 

"Hey, you okay?" Martin asks softly, hovering a hand out in case Jon loses his balance.

He nods to both of them, but nodding just swishes around the alcohol in his head and he wobbles again.

Martin does grab him this time, fingers wrapping gently around his forearm, high, near his elbow. 

"Whoa," Martin mutters, mostly to himself. "You sure?" 

"I'm fine," Jon insists. He considers pulling away, but Martin's hand is warm, even through his jacket, and it's an oddly pleasant feeling that makes him hesitate. "I'm going to head home," he continues after a too-long pause.

The others nod too, wishing a couple 'have a nice night's and 'be safe's, and Jon expects Martin to let him go then. He doesn't, though, and Jon finds himself blurrily staring at their arms laying over one another. 

"I'm going to be on my way as well," Martin says to their coworkers, stepping purposely toward the door with Jon's arm still in his hand.

Jon finds himself following easily.

"What, going to walk me home?" Jon snorts, though he does lean a little more into Martin's side as they step out of the bar.

Martin laughs beside him.

"I could, if you'd like."

Normally, Jon would scoff and dismiss him. Let them go their separate ways.

For some reason, instead, he just shrugs and barely leads them. Maybe he's been too wrapped up with the statements lately — he could swear every shadow and every dark corner conceals his doom, something tragic and painful and mysterious. The shadows and dark corners have so far only revealed forgotten newspapers and discarded cigarettes, but tonight could be the night. Better not to chance it. 

After turning down one of the shallow side streets a few blocks from his flat, Jon stumbles. The walk is less even, a shifted slab of concrete pressing up just enough to grab his foot and yank. If Martin wasn't with him, he would have certainly fallen on his ass. Martin _is_ , though, and gets him leaned on one of the buildings while his equilibrium restabilizes. 

Martin is too close. Neither of them is sober, even if Jon is significantly less so, but Martin is still leaned in like he's got an _intention._

His lips land soft against Jon's own, hesitant even though he's found the nerve to kiss him at all. It's not a quick kiss — there's a couple deep breaths while they stay pressed together, a few too many distinct moments where either of them could pull away and don't — and when they disconnect seconds later, it feels like it's been an eternity.

"You kissed me," Jon blurts out, rather than saying literally anything else, or nothing at all. 

"Sorry," Martin says, "I didn't — I mean, I _meant_ to," he stutters. "Sorry." 

Jon is a little too drunk to process what this all implies. Is Martin interested in him? Does he expect Jon to be interested in him too? They've just kissed against a brick wall on a lonely, near-abandoned side street, isn't that usually reserved for people hooking up for one night stands? Has Martin considered this the first step in 'hooking up'?

Jon can only stare at his mouth. Martin’s biting his lip now, embarrassed, but the kiss hadn't been bad. It had actually sent a thrill down his spine, just the act of _being kissed_ , without regard to the fact that it was Martin. And then he surprises himself when he realizes he doesn't actually mind it being Martin — the man can be a little incompetent in work once in a while, but he’s kind, and relatively quiet, and, now that Jon’s thinking about it, good-looking.

What are Martin's expectations, anyway? Was that a fluke, or would he want to kiss Jon again? Do more? Was this just an impulse, or has Martin been thinking about this for a while? Did he _wait_ for this, find a moment that he could push his limits with Jon and go for it?

"Jon?" Martin says cautiously. "You haven't said anything in, like, a minute."

He certainly hasn't. _Shit_.

"It's fine," he says. "It... Kissing was fine," he clarifies, feeling blush rising in his cheeks that's _not_ related to the alcohol.

Martin's bitten lip becomes a bitten-back smile.

"It was?"

He's leaning closer again. Jon can smell him, this close, the faintest scents of cologne and shampoo lingering.

"Don’t go getting any ideas," Jon mutters, but there's no bite to it. In fact, he's leaning in too, finding himself wanting to close the distance again for another kiss.

"I wouldn't," Martin mutters back, practically against Jon's lips as he kissed him again.

There are _many, multiple moments_ of this one, Martin's hands finding their way gentlemanly to Jon's waist and Jon's hands finding their way teasingly to Martin's hips, fingers dipping a little too obviously under the hem of the jacket Martin wore out tonight.

Eventually, when Jon's hands have roamed far enough to grab and grope Martin closer, encouraged Martin to press him into the bricks, Martin breaks the kiss with shaky breaths and a too-hopeful question. 

"Do you want to go somewhere?"

Jon licks his lips, raw and wet and red from the force he's coaxed out of Martin. That sounds like a _very_ good idea.

"Yeah."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also on tumblr occasionally taking requests [here](sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com)!


End file.
